


the road to caradhras

by softlyblue



Series: accidental fellowships (pevensies in middle-earth) [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU - Pevensies in the Fellowship, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyblue/pseuds/softlyblue
Summary: "My brother is younger than me," Boromir says, "He reminds me of you. No - no, no, he does not."
Relationships: Edmund Pevensie & Boromir (Son of Denethor II)
Series: accidental fellowships (pevensies in middle-earth) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169078
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	the road to caradhras

**Author's Note:**

> lucy is 15, edmund 17, susan 18, and peter 21 in this. canonical pevensie age differences & ages have been thrown out. in this au, they arrived in middle-earth at different points and times, although they left england at the same time: lucy arrived at tom bombadil's house just before the fellowship, edmund landed near weathertop a few days before before aragorn & the hobbits came there, susan met legolas on the west side of the misty mountains on his way to rivendell, and peter landed with boromir some time before he came to rivendell. this is post-prince caspian, pre-dawn treader.

**_scene break: on the road to caradhras_ **

Edmund stretches his legs out in front of him, willing the muscles in his calves to comply, to keep from cramping up. They have been walking now for eight days, with a predicted month or more until they hit the mountain range itself, and now the wear and tear is beginning to show on the members of the party less accustomed to a hardy road than others.

He knows he and his siblings have surprised them. Not _all_ of them; Gandalf had simply raised one bushy eyebrow, and Aragorn had not reacted one way or the other. The three younger hobbits had quickly dropped their bright pace of the first few days, and now the evenings are full of gripes and groans as calluses form on their heels and burns on their ankles.

Boromir had been surprised, and Edmund had expected it. Neither he, nor any of his siblings, had shown any sign of smugness; only Peter had begun to talk more frankly of the long campaigns he had been on, and the older men had finally begun to take him with a little seriousness.

"I'm taking advantage of the rain being elsewhere," Samwise says, squinting into the sky, already unhooking the battered frying-pan he has hanging from his pack, "Hands up all for sausages fore it's too late. They won't keep too much longer."

Edmund nods at Sam when he's counting sausages from a long linked chain, wrapped in oiled paper given to him by the Rivendell elves. Lucy is by Merry and Pippin, chatting merrily to them about whether sausages are better flavoured or plain pork; Peter is stroking down the length of his sword with a scrap of thick silk, cleaning some of the travelling grime from the sharp edge, talking earnestly and quietly to Aragorn, who is doing the same. Frodo is lying near Sam, a gentle smile on his face, watching him slit sausages with his knife as though there is nothing he would rather be doing. Susan is sitting with her eyes shut, in the waking sleep she sometimes affects, her thoughtful state. Gimli and Gandalf are the pair of them sitting on a rock, each trying to blow smoke rings bigger than the other; Legolas is watching Gimli, and occasionally calling to one or the other to outperform.

Boromir, Edmund sees, has wandered off on his own.

Edmund follows.

"For a foreigner, you are knowledgeable about the ways of the world," Boromir says, facing Edmund and towards the mountains, his hands behind his back, on parade rest.

Edmund takes on the same pose. The skyline is forbiddingly pointy. "Every march is the same, after a while."

"Yes, indeed. But I was well into nine-and-twenty before I had the gait that you have, and you cannot be at your twentieth year yet."

"No," Edmund says. "No, I am not." He says nothing more.

Boromir is more interested in Edmund than Edmund is in Boromir. He is sturdy and bricklike in his fighting stance, in the sparring sessions he has begrudgingly agreed to with Peter and Aragorn (Edmund prefers not to spar with anyone who isn't a sibling; it removes the advantages he might have, in a fight with these people). He is strong, undoubtedly so, and with experience to back up his considerable power. Edmund can see why, even if he was not noble-born, he would rise to power in the army of his people.

"My brother is younger than me," Boromir says, "He reminds me of you. No - no, no, he does not."

Edmund waits until the silence is long and uncomfortable, and then, when Boromir shifts his weight to his other foot: "And what are the differences between us?"

"Faramir is not built for war in the way I think you are," Boromir says, and Edmund doesn't have to look at his face to see his discomfort, "And I believe he is... forgiving. He is older than you."

"Most people are."

That makes Boromir laugh, finally, and Edmund allows himself a little pride at that. "Most people are indeed. You know, it's funny; the dwarf and I were doubtful of you and your family, as I am sure you know, but Mithrandir and the Ranger were not. Had you met them before?"

"Not in my life," Edmund says. He thinks of the old army general from Narnia - of Reepicheep - of Caspian, brave Caspian, his hair long and his smile crooked and his hands warm on Edmund's waist. "But I have met people like them. The man you call Mithrandir is older than you think, if you were to ask me. They have both seen stranger things than brothers and sisters who have learned how to walk."

"Sausages, you two!" Samwise hollers from the campfire.

"Ed!" Lucy shouts, "You'll never guess what Pippin just told me!"

Edmund shifts out of parade rest, but before he can go to the camp proper Boromir seizes him, his large hand wrapped around Edmund's bicep. "Pevensie-"

Edmund freezes, and without any conscious thought a thousand different ways to release himself and down Boromir ring through his head. "What," he says, coolly, not a question at all.

"I am sorry," Boromir says, and lets go, setting his hand instead on Edmund's shoulder. "I just - you will understand when you meet Faramir. I - would - I would like you to stay safe. It would... I would like it."

"Sausages, Ed!"

Edmund looks away from the depth of emotion in Boromir's eyes, the need he has for something Edmund can't provide. "Before the hobbits get them all, come on," he says, and slips out of Boromir's grasp like the ghost he wishes he could become.

**Author's Note:**

> @softlyblues on tumblr, come talk to me about narnia/lotr!


End file.
